


Buttons

by aheadfullofdreams89, rachanlv, Wolveria



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor in Glasses, Connor is a sexual deviant, Contemporary AU, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Therapy Practices, F/M, Happy Ending, Human AU, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Masturbation Technique, Modern AU, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Therapist Connor, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, and a delight, but it starts off real dark lemme tell ya, orgasm therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheadfullofdreams89/pseuds/aheadfullofdreams89, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachanlv/pseuds/rachanlv, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolveria/pseuds/Wolveria
Summary: Connor knew he shouldn't be so attracted to his patient. It wasn't right, especially when she had been nothing but sweet to him.But when the opportunity presented itself to finally get a taste of her, he couldn't help himself.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Female Character(s), Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 344





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic starts off with noncon/dubcon with non-consensual drug use. The fic ends with enthusiastic but still possibly dubcon sex. Connor is a therapist and does some shady stuff to his patient. Read the tags and proceed with joy.
> 
> Title and theme song brought to you by [The Pussycat Dolls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJcwc5Gz8K0) and the Hank's House discord server.

You’d been seeing him for quite a while now, gotten comfortable around him. But some days it was hard to talk. It wasn’t that you didn't trust Connor, because how couldn't you? That sweet smile, warm brown eyes, the glasses on his nose sitting _just like that._ He would tilt his head when he talked to you in that soothing, understanding voice. One could say you'd developed a little crush on him, which was bad enough.

Today was a day like that. You sat in your chair and can't bring a word out.

You felt it in the lower pit of your stomach. You tried to remain composed, tried to remain attentive to what you were going to say. But even that wasn’t working.

"I'm... I'm sorry; can we do this another time? I'm not doing so well today..." It was a pitiful excuse.

Connor's eyebrows creased together in question. He saw right through it.

He studied you, looking through you. Those honey brown eyes twinkled in the floor lamp lighting. Fuck... _fuck_. You closed your legs tighter, pressed your hands between your thighs.

What would he look like pressed between them? That sultry low voice spilling forth sweet nothings as he worshiped your body with his hands, suckled on your clit and—

"You require something else of me." He said your name and butterflies flew from your stomach and into your throat.

"Y-yes... I mean, no! No! What makes you say that?"

"You've been on edge today. This isn't like you at all", he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

The look he gave you made your heart speed up and your legs quiver. Connor had a way of pinning you with his gaze, making it unable for you to move or even look away.

You nervously rubbed your hands over your thighs and tried to slow your breathing again. It was wrong on so many levels to feel attracted to your therapist. But he made it so _easy_ to be attracted to him.

For a while neither of you said anything but you know he is contemplating things, see it in the way he held himself.

"We should get you to relax. Would you want to lie down for a while?” he asked in that fucking sweet and concerned tone that had you go weak every time.

"Yes. I-I think that would be good,” you answered, voice still a bit shaky.

But Connor's smile was so reassuring that it almost made your heart burst. He got out of his heavy leather armchair and you did the same, following him over to the matching couch. A guiding hand on the small of your back made you almost jump out of your skin as he asked you to sit and if you would like a glass of water. Or a mint.

"Peppermint has a relaxing effect, did you know that? It'll help you in no time."

He showed off his perfect dimples as he offered you a small candy out of his personal stash, as he called it, and you leaned against the backrest, smiling back at him faintly.

Why did it have to be so hard today?

"How would you feel about trying out something new?” Connor finally broke the silence, pulling a chair next to the couch and sitting down again.

"Something new? As in..."

"Hypnosis can help... addressing the difficult things. Because you won't be aware, you can talk about the things that you can't while awake. Would you like to try?"

How bad could it be, really? Maybe he was right to take on a new method. So you nodded.

"Sure. Can't hurt now, can it?"

Not that you really believed in hypnosis, to be perfectly honest. That was something out of a magic show, but you agreed anyway. Maybe only to please him?

He smiled again. He’d been smiling so damn much today. Not that you minded. And when he asked you to lean back against the couch, you did so, listening to him talk you through the process.

Soon after you felt your eyes getting heavy and a warm, a comforting hand was rubbing over your shin and knee. You could've sworn it had inched up to your thigh as you closed your eyes completely.

* * *

Connor‘s hand wandered from rubbing comforting fingers over her thigh to squeeze.

He bit his lip. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong and yet here he was. Tricked her by making her take a pill that would render her unconscious for a while so he could have his way with her.

It was sick. He of all people knew just how much.

That didn‘t stop him from rubbing her through her jeans though, marveling at how peaceful and contented she looked.

She had trusted him and he betrayed all that now because he was horny and in love with a patient. A lethal combo.

Connor opened her pants and slid them down her legs before he shed his own. He was already rock hard when he climbed over her, rolling on a condom to leave no traces. He kissed her cheek with a whispered “you‘re beautiful,” as he thrust into her, hard.

This was the only way he could have her. He told himself that made this okay. She would have never agreed to this for sure. Not with him.

He gave it all he got, moaning and panting as he pounded into her, leaning heavily on his arms as he chased his climax, coming with a pained, hoarse cry.

* * *

When you woke up the first thing you saw was his smiling face, asking if you were all right.

You were. But as you left his room you felt a strange soreness between your legs. Next session you might have to ask if this was a side effect.


	2. Chapter 2

You agreed that your next session would be an hour earlier than the previous one. You promised yourself that you would remember this. You didn’t, of course.

You rushed up the stairs and practically burst into his office, mumbling apologies and all. Connor looked up at you and you could swear that his breath... hitched? You shook the thought away. Why would he do that?

* * *

Connor tried to keep his expression pleasantly neutral as she apologized over and over. He noticed how her hair was a mess from running, small beads of sweat on her forehead and he dragged his eyes lower and _damn_ , that skirt. He wanted to lift that skirt up and lick into her, feel how hot and wet she'd be on his tongue. He wanted to hear her moan and stutter and come undone.

"Is everything okay?" she asked him, after the silence stretched far too long.

"Yes, of course," he said, returning a soft smile. "Please, take a seat."

Connor had to get his thoughts in order. He hadn't expected her to show up like _this_ today. Hadn't dared to dream she would ever wear something like this to a session.

"Sorry, I was... In thought", he took a seat opposite of her as usual. Fuck, he tried _so_ hard not to stare between her legs as she crossed them, hoping to get a glimpse at the prize again, but failed miserably.

* * *

You didn't notice anything amiss, smoothing over your top before you looked at him and smiled again.

You waited with a small shy smile on your face. Waited for him to talk. Because you didn't trust yourself to start a conversation, not after the dream you’d had. That dream was the reason you were late, actually.

Just a few minutes earlier, you’d had been chasing your own pleasure, moaning into your pillow with your hand between your legs. You had dreamt of Connor, of him teasing your nipples with his mouth, sucking on one and pinching the other. His hot tongue lapping at you, enough for you to moan needily, rutting against him.

In the dream he had paused for just for a moment and you’d whined, wanting that maddening feeling back. But your breath had hitched as he’d pulled out his cock, rock hard, and you had felt dizzy from realization that it was because of you.

He had slid between your legs, cock in hand to drag it along your pussy, rubbing the head between your folds. You could feel how wet you are and he moaned at the contact, the head getting all wet too. You’d wanted to come just from this alone: from his skillful hand pinching your nipple, and his cock rubbing against you. You had rolled your hips and knew you were so close to begging him to fuck you.

When you had been about to open your mouth when the alarm rang and your eyes had snapped open. Blushing and breathing hard, your hand still between your legs. You had wanted to finish but you realize that you couldn’t, already running late to Connor’s appointment.

You looked up at Connor again and felt this heat pulling at you, and you once again couldn’t speak. If you did, you were pretty sure that the first thing you'd say was 'fuck me, please.’

Your cheeks burned with shame.

* * *

"You're a bit late,” he smiled, but it was a strained smile. Damnit, he couldn’t be straining within his pants every time he saw her. And yet, he still was.

Connor is shifted in his seat, coughing awkwardly as he tried to keep it cool. But that fucking skirt made it _very_ hard. Just like it made him hard.

"I hope nothing happened,” he said anyway, again aiming for neutral.

* * *

"No. No! I just overslept.” Your answer came too quickly as you concentrated on his shoulders as he rolled them, the muscles underneath his print dress shirt shifting so deliciously.

You couldn't possibly tell the truth. Never. Hoping you hadn't accidentally let something slip last time when you were out of it. How you wanted him between your legs, taking what was, in your eyes, rightfully his.

It was sick to think about him like that, that sweet guy in front of you with nothing but the best intention to help you. But you had imagined him doing things to you while you had been in hypnosis.

Him sliding his long fingers knuckle deep into your wet pussy, pumping until he had you coming. His skilled mouth wasn't just good at talking in your head, your dreams affirmed that.

You smoothed over your top again and swore you felt his gaze shift over your whole body again.

"You... you would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” He stood as he spoke, approaching the side table and pouring himself a glass of water. “Would you like one?”

“I’m fine.” You swallowed thickly, jokes about ‘tall glasses of water’ in your head as you tried not to ogle your cute therapist. “Thank you.”

He came to stand behind you and suddenly a hand was on your shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting manner.

But damn if it didn't rile you up even more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Talk of masturbation, dubious "therapy" practices, explicit sexual content

“I would tell you if something was wrong, of course,” you said, trying not to shiver as the hand remained where it was, heavy and hot on your shoulder.

“Not having nightmares again, are you?”

The question was perfectly reasonable, so there was no reason for your cheeks to be on fire or for you to clutch the couch cushions as tightly as you did.

“N-no. No nightmares.” Oh, definitely no nightmares.

He hummed thoughtfully, and then he slightly squeezed your shoulder, making you jump.

“You’re incredibly tense,” he said, repeating the motion. “You shouldn’t hold so much tension in your muscles, especially here. It increases the chance of cluster headaches and neck injury.”

You couldn’t breathe, or think, or function at all as he moved his hand closer to your neck and pressed the pad of his thumb against the top of your spine.

“You’ve got a knot. Right… here.” He rubbed the spot harder, digging into the sore muscle.

You moaned, and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth.

He stopped moving his thumb.

 _Fuck,_ you thought, panicking. _Fuck, fuck._

“Sorry,” he said with a little laugh, as if you hadn’t done the most embarrassing thing in the world. “Forgot to warn you this might hurt a little. If it gets to be too much, please tell me.”

Oh. He thought you’d moaned in _pain._

You lowered your hand from your mouth, nodded and gave a strangled, “Okay.”

Connor placed his hand on your other shoulder, effectively doubling your heart rate as you pressed your thighs together. You felt like you were going to explode or catch fire on the spot.

He began to rub both of your shoulders, long and deft fingers working through your muscles. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, your nipples were painfully hard, and you ached between your legs.

All from a simple massage that probably meant nothing to him. It wasn’t _fair._

“Is this all right?” His voice had dropped to a low murmur that was sinful enough to short-circuit your brain. “If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me to stop.”

“No,” you rushed out, immediately flushing. “It’s-it’s fine. Great, really. I… think I needed this.”

He gave a low chuckle. You were pretty sure you could come from his voice alone.

“Really? I couldn’t tell at all,” he teased, fingers pressing into an especially stubborn muscle. “But honestly, someone as young as you shouldn’t be so tense. It’s unhealthy. Are you practicing any muscle-relaxing techniques at home?”

“I don’t think so. Unless drinking counts,” you sheepishly added.

“No, drinking does not count,” he reprimanded you, even as you could hear the smile in his voice. “I have a few suggestions, if that’s all right?”

“Sure,” you said, head hanging forward as you continued to relax. He could do anything to you right now and you wouldn’t care. It felt so insanely good, better than any massage you’d ever had, and those fingers and his voice were better than any porn.

You really needed to stop lusting over your therapist. It was wrong, pathetic, and clearly pointless. This wasn’t going anywhere except to give you another broken heart.

“Well…” He moved his hands back up to your neck, the tips of his fingers gently cradling the columns of your throat as his thumb worked against your spine. You thought you had died and gone to heaven. “Lying down and reading is a good one. Stretching your muscles everyday also helps. Relaxing in a hot bath.

“And, of course, there’s masturbation.”

You stopped breathing. Went stock-still like a frightened rabbit before a hunter.

“Really?” you asked faintly, on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up. Did he know what you had done just before your session? Was he just teasing you some more?

“Yes, absolutely,” he said, still massaging your muscles as he had a whole bunch of tensed up ones to work through. “It even helps bolster the immune system. I recommend it to all my patients.”

“Oh.”

 _All_ his patients. It didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good therapist. Of course he was. He was a professional and you were a pathetic lowlife who let your innocent crush run wild until it had become totally perverted and—

Connor’s hands went still as he leaned down, put his mouth close to your ear and murmured, “I can show you the best technique, if you like.”

This couldn’t be happening. Surely, you were still dreaming. There was no way—

“Okay.”

He seemed surprised, going by the short breath he sucked it, but it was nothing compared to your own shock. Had you just really agreed to let Connor show you how to masturbate “properly”?

He removed his hands from your shoulders, and for a moment you thought he was going to laugh at you, tell you it was a joke and you really were pathetic to fall for it.

Instead, he stood before you, peering down so intently that you felt he could see right through you. Hear each beat of your heart and listen to each shallow, pulled breath.

Normally, the glasses perched on his nose gave Connor a soft, endearing look. Now he looked almost predatory as his analytical gaze roved over every inch of you. And then he reached up, pulled at the knot of his tie, and tugged it off in one swift motion.

You gripped the edge of the couch. _Holy shit._

Connor sat down next to you on the couch, and the parts of you that felt they were on fire burned even brighter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice raspy and low as he looked you in the eye. “If we have to stop later, you’ll be even tenser than before, which will make this entire exercise ineffective. So once I start… I plan to not stop until it’s finished.”

This was really happening. You nodded, licking your dry lips and swallowing the lump in your throat, voice shaky but the words clear.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

He gave a little smile, so faint you almost didn’t catch it, and then he took your hand, holding the back of it against his palm.

“Good. Then let us begin.”

Connor sounded so formal it was almost funny, as if this really was some kind of legitimate therapist practice, but there was nothing professional about the way he gripped your hand, placed it on your thigh, and pushed it up your skirt.

“I’m glad you wore this today,” he said, almost conversational except for the hoarse quality of his voice. “Makes it easier for the both of us.”

A small whimper escaped before you could tamp it down, the tips of your fingers against your inner thigh combined with Connor’s low praise already too much. How were you going to do this and survive with your mind intact?

“It’s all right,” he breathed against your cheek. “Don’t hold anything back. This is all about making you feel good.”

You couldn’t hold back, even if you’d wanted to. Connor pressing your own fingers against your clothed sex was enough to pull another noise from you, a stifled, strained whine.

“That’s it,” he instructed sweetly, guiding your fingers into a slow, circling motion over your clit. “Just like that.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to be quiet despite what he’d said, and Connor gave a sigh.

“You’re not relaxing.”

He didn’t give you an opportunity to respond; Connor pushed your hand harder against the fabric barrier over your clit just as he gently wrapped his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to the side so he could press his nose against the side of your neck.

_“Relax.”_

He said the word against your skin, moving lips forcing a shudder out of you, and just as if he had you under a spell, you began to relax, muscles becoming loose and pliant under his control.

“That’s my girl.”

Between the guide of his skillful fingers, his lips teasing your neck, and his low, murmured praises, you were already well on your way to reaching that peak. He felt so warm, his voice more raspy than usual, and that hint of cologne you’d always thought smelled nice was now intoxicating.

But just as you started to feel your walls tightened, Connor pulled your hands away, and you gave a pitiful moan.

“Impatient, aren’t you,” he teased, drawing your hand up your mound and to the waistband of your panties. “Insatiable little thing.”

You were beyond speaking at this point; all that was left to you were needy whines and breathy, strangled groans.

Connor, meanwhile, seemed as composed as ever, even with his tie removed and the top button of his collar undone, leaving a delicious swath of pale, smooth skin. You wanted to reach out and suck on it, leave a hickey he would have to hide from his next patients, and the thought made you wild with need but your hands remained next to your legs, clutching the cushions for dear life. You didn’t know if he would let you touch him, but you wanted to, desperately.

Still leading your hand, he dipped your fingers under your waistband, moved them down, and guided them over your folds. Your face was on fire, made worse when you both felt how drenched you were.

“It seems to me you really needed this.” Was it your imagination, or did Connor’s breath hitch and nearly stutter? “How long have you been… wound so tight?”

As he said the words, he pressed your fingers inward, teasing and prodding your entrance. You rolled your hips and arched against the back of the couch, unable to keep still or quiet as you released a muffled cry.

“You’re holding back again.” You felt something warm and wet against your skin, and belatedly realized he was dragging his tongue along your neck. You whimpered and tried to squeeze your thighs together over his hand. The stimulation was too much and not enough.

With his free hand, he grabbed your knee and forced your legs apart.

“What did I say about relaxing?” he nearly growled, sending a shiver up your spine. “Even now, you’re still fighting it. You have to trust me.”

You nodded, eyes still shut down, because you couldn’t look at him without dying on the spot. It was purely self-preservation at this point. “I trust you,” you managed to breathe out.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Connor nibbled at your earlobe, gentle but the scrape of his teeth still forced out your moan. “Now for this part… you have to make sure you’re properly lubricated.”

As if to make his point, he swirled your fingers between your folds, coating them with your slick. “If you do this technique dry, it’ll be uncomfortable. Painful, even. We don’t want that.”

You were barely able to follow his words, enjoying the lull of his voice more than anything. It was better than in all your fantasies combined.

He moved your fingers upward, placed them directly on your clit, and began to move them. A counterclockwise motion that was slow and methodical but already threatened to break you to pieces.

“The key is to set a steady, rhythmic pace,” he said, his tone ridiculously formal again except for the hoarseness. “Another tactic that people overlook is to keep your body relaxed, but to keep this area taut.”

Connor slid your fingers down again to your entrance, teasing against it before returning to your clit. He continued to speak, ignoring your choked cry as if he hadn’t heard it.

“Tensing and flexing your pelvic muscles is key to achieving a satisfying orgasm. So in this case, I do want you to tense up here. Can you do that?”

 _Oh, fuck,_ was about the most coherent response you could come up with, but you managed to choke out a, “Yes.”

You really did try to follow Connor’s instructions. Relax your muscles except for between your legs. Easy. Except you were a giant stress-ball of horny and you wanted to jump into Connor’s lap, unzip his pants, and sit on his dick.

The thought made you moan and arch your back again, desperate to move your fingers faster, but Connor wouldn’t let you, forcing your fingers to remain at the slow, torturous pace.

It was good, _so_ good, but it wasn’t enough, and Connor was keeping you just short of reaching your peak. He might actually succeed in driving you crazy.

Fuck it. If he was going to keep torturing you, you were going to enjoy it was much as possible. With your free hand, you slipped it under your shirt, pulled your bra down, and rubbed your thumb harshly over the nipple. The additional stimulation made you almost sob with relief, unable to be still as you squirmed and pushed up against his hand.

You heard Connor suck in a breath, his hand suddenly still, and without thinking you grabbed his lax fingers and forced them back onto your clit. Directly. His hand remained frozen, even when you tried to move it. Despite his lanky limbs and slim body, he was very strong.

You finally opened your eyes, met his warm brown ones, and desperately begged.

“Please…”

He chewed the corner of his lip as if conflicted, even with his hand down your panties.

“ _Please,_ Connor.” Your words were a choked moan, his name a sinful plea on your lips, and you saw the moment his resolve break.

Swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob, he removed his hand entirely from your panties. For a moment, you thought you’d misinterpreted, but then he lifted his fingers to his lips, glistening with your slick, and cleaned them off with his tongue before popping them into his mouth.

You just stared at him, sure your mind had just broken, especially when he pulled his fingers from his mouth with an indecent _pop._

And then… he removed his glasses.

You’d never seen Connor without his glasses before. He looked… barely restrained. His eyes, normally so warm and soft, were sharp and edged like the blade of a knife. Like he wanted to take you apart and make you all his.

Apparently, that’s what he intended to do.

Connor rose to his feet and stood between your knees after kicking them apart, barely giving you any time to adjust before he knelt on the cushion between your legs. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, settling you into his lap and trapping you between him and the back of the couch.

You watched, mouth dry and chest heaving as he unbuckled his belt and harshly pulled it from its loop, tossing it aside. His eyes never left yours even as he unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out of his boxer-briefs.

You’d never thought it was possible for a cock to look so delicious, and his was mouth-wateringly gorgeous. A nice size and girth, flushed and already leaking precum at the tip.

He didn’t give you enough time to admire it; Connor looped one arm around the small of your back, lifted your hips, tugged aside the crotch of your panties, and pulled you up onto his lap. The tip of his cock pushed past your slick entrance, and he slid the rest of the way inside without much difficulty from how wet you were, but you were suddenly so full you could barely breathe.

 _“Fuck,”_ he gasped against your ear. It was the first time you’d ever heard him curse. “You’re so… tight.”

You held onto his broad shoulders like a lifeline, fingers digging into his dress shirt and whimpering as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist.

 _“Connor,”_ you nearly sobbed from relief and the almost-painful fullness. You didn’t care if it would hurt, you needed this. Needed him. “Please… fuck me.”

With a low growl, he thrust forward, crushing you between the couch and his chest, half-holding you up as he thrust into you again. Each drag of his cock inside you made you moan, or cry, and you buried your face into his neck as your walls already started to tighten around him.

He felt better than a dream, hitting the spots you could never reach yourself, the sound of his hips slamming into yours wet and obscene in his small office. You could feel yourself dripping, making a mess of both of you, but neither of you cared.

“Connor.” You repeated his name, over and over, voice rising in pitch the tighter you became. _“Connor.”_

“I know,” he gasped out, fingers digging into your hips as he increased the brutal, merciless pace. “You’re doing… so well, baby girl. You’re… almost there.”

You half-sobbed at the praise, wanting to come so badly, but at the same time, conflicted. Never wanting it to stop. Not wanting this fantasy to be over.

Maybe Connor sensed it, because he latched onto your throat with his mouth, nipping and sucking and kissing your skin as if he could live on that alone.

“Come for me,” he growled, and you did, unable to do anything but obey.

You gripped him so tightly you must have left bruises, arched your back, and cried out sharply, your whole body shuddering as you pulsed and throbbed around him. Stars exploded behind your eyes as pleasure sparked through every nerve and inch of your skin, and all you could do was cling to him tightly so you wouldn’t drown beneath the waves.

Connor gave a choked curse, his pace staggering into shallow, uneven thrusts, before he pushed all the way inside and shivered hard. He held you tightly against his chest as he groaned into your hair, panting and holding you on his lap as his cock twitched and throbbed inside you.

Only when you felt his cum start to leak out of you did you remember you hadn’t used a condom.

_Shit._

You expected him to pull out of you, to tell you to get out now that he was done with you. Instead, Connor kept his arms around you as he shifted over, sitting back and pulling you onto his lap, still embedded deep inside you.

And then he did something you never would have expected; he took your head between his hands and drew you forward, pressing his soft lips against yours. Tender, warm, and inviting, the tip of his tongue licked against your lips. You gasped and shivered and he pulled back, a small, satisfied smile pulling at his lips.

“So…” His smile fell and he looked almost nervous. You almost missed it because he had lowered his hands to your hips and begun tracing distracting circles on them with his thumbs. Even through the cloth of your skirt his touch was warm and electric. “I don’t know if you would be interested… but…”

He faltered again and you weren’t imagining the shyness there, which was crazy because he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life. What could he possibly have to be bashful about?

“Yes?” you asked, surprised at how raw you sounded. You curled your finger into his hair, liking the softness of it, and needed to do something with your hands before you decided to start riding him again. His cock, even though it had softened, was still very distracting inside you.

Connor’s cheeks a pretty pink, so endearing and awkward as he leaned into your touch. “I was wondering if you’d… maybe want to come over to my house tonight?”

You blinked at him. Probably the fifth time he’d broken your brain in so many minutes.

“I mean,” he flushed a deeper pink, “I feel like I at least owe you dinner. I’ve been told I’m a decent cook, and… that is, if you don’t want to sue me for… for malpractice—“

You surged forward and pressed your lips against his, forcing him to stop talking.

Connor gave a startled gasp, giving you the opportunity to lick into his mouth. You could feel his dick give an interested twitch inside you. You groaned, shifting your hips a little. You knew your time was almost up, so there was no possible way for a round two, but…

Going to Connor’s house? Having him cook you dinner? Maybe even stay the night in his bed?

You broke the kiss, took a steadying breath of air, and smiled down at him.

“Yes,” you said. “I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
